


self-loathing in bright clothing

by machetechampion



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Gen, Trans Male Character, Weed TW, dont ever put me in a situation where i have to tag things, family solidarity, needles tw, references to familial trauma briefly, references to medical trauma briefly, trans!!!!!!!!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25170526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/machetechampion/pseuds/machetechampion
Summary: "greg has a gentleness roman’s never even heard in doctors. he knows this stuff, he talks to roman how the helpline did when he was bleeding on the floor of a hospital room. he talks to roman like people at bars, at group, in the ward did. he talks to roman like he sees the stress and frustration and fear and desire to be seen for what he is.greg talks to roman like he’s allowed to be trans."
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	self-loathing in bright clothing

**Author's Note:**

> trans greg + trans roman solidarity because someone on twitter said one thing and ive had this in my head for 40 years.
> 
> u can hmu on @ratmiddleman (twitter) for fic ideas!

**i. greg**

it wasn’t calculated. stealth was never the plan. sure, he wasn’t running around town with street queens 24/7 back home, he knew his place and his time and his moment, but this sucks.

he has alarms for his testosterone. he has a post-it note with acceptable scruff lengths, an app on his phone to monitor his pitch, he’s incognito. he feels like his life is a private browser, a do-not-access, a dirty secret for under-the-blankets with the headphones in while the wife sleeps and the mind wanders.

he doesn’t understand why roman gets it.

he has his suspicions, but knows better than to project. roman’s fuck-it-all attitude means he could be bluffing on anything, and greg is stupid. the solidarity could be anything- exiles, separate from the rest, too much therapy, the voice cracks-

it could also be the fact that roman got 99% thc crystals and theyre listening to green day and watching the stock market move live and greg can’t hear his alarm because his ears are swimming and he wonders if roman knows what ‘bicon’ is. he thinks he does. 

he seems like the type.

**ii. roman**

greg’s been on it longer than him, but roman’s top surgery looks better.

roman notices these things instantly. he’s hyper fixated on the deviations from norm of the roy bloodline. greg hates having his shirt off, but logan is insistent and roman can see where the surgeries were revised. he knows there’s an inherent privilege in your dad using his coming out to bastardize his mom (“raised my damn son as a girl! lied to me like the bitch of a woman she is!”) and he knows theres a roy-specific privilege in the best surgeons reconstructing your face and body to be whatever works. 

roman also knows there’s an inherent privilege in your transition being funded out of love. roman knows there’s a privilege in how little voice training greg had to do (he can tell by the stability of his tone and it stings when he remembers logan’s “junkie” comment every time roman got out his needles. they’re not even the same kind, dad.) and he feels bitter and jealous of how easy it is.

sometimes he wonders what greg would think. he wonders how they align. what they do, how they think. roman can’t always believe he’s related to the dude with how different he is. he wonders if greg sees anything redeemable in him. he reminds himself to scoff at the idea that some failed-mascot farm-boy asshole could find solidarity with roman.

roman’s obviously doing it better. dude can’t even handle a near-untainted crystalline cannabinoid structure.

fuckin fake stoner.

“oh shit!”

**iii.**

roman cocks his head to the side. greg has high panic levels, even sober, this is nothing. he probably forgot to defrost his alfredo sauce or something.

greg, however, is sweating. he stands, and roman’s quick to follow (sitting next to that dude should be illegal. greg already has a foot on him.).

“i, uh, i forgot something in my apartment, i gotta go, i’m sorry rome, i know it’s a bad time--”

“greg, come the fuck on. your pasta dinner can wait. i’ll order something, something /nice/, you don’t need that shit-”

“no, uh, it’s a little more pressing than dinner-”   
  


**ii.**

/oh./

**i.**

  
  


oh fuck oh fuck oh /fuck./ 

roman’s going to get it, isn’t he. stealth cancelled. he fucked it up. went too far. got too comfy. roman paused and he can see the wheels turning and roman never even seemed high he can’t get it right? right?

“saturdays are my day, too. used to be fridays, but i missed one and had to reset.”

greg’s brain freezes. he doesn’t get it. greg doesn’t have correct sneaking suspicions in this timeline- he’s pretty sure he’s been right a couple times and the roys have /invented/ cover-ups to make him wrong. this one doesn’t work out right. right. right?

“i’ll pack up my stuff and we can keep going at yours- do you still have that place ken got you?’

“what…?’

“jesus, greg, we’re going to take our meds and do the exact same shit we’ve been doing- we haven’t even gotten to billie’s best work. you can’t get stupid just because i was nice, god, fuck. now come on, i’ll get a car.”

oh right. he’s still talking to roman.

**ii.**

for how safe a person greg is, roman could really do with him being smarter.

he’s in the denial phase where he doesn’t want to acknowledge that if greg had been good at trans banter he would have bolted. the fuck-all attitude makes it easy to ignore dysphoria, pointed comments, if everyone thinks you’re a give-no-damns cis dude they don’t talk to you about the little things. no one asked roman about the botched bottom surgery, no one asked roman about his favorite spots for trans folks, no one ever was curious to know that tom’s bachelor party was a place with a 50/50 split of communist trans sex workers and the businessmen who get exploited by them. the hearty handshake from connor was more of a ‘don’t tell anyone i’ve always been bisexual’ than a thankful awareness of roman trying to diversify in his own way.

greg is easier because roman knows hes still in control. the dialogue is his to have, to control. 

now that he has it and is placing a suitcase of testosterone, needles, weed, and one suit in the back of a car, he wonders if he ever knew what to do with that power.

**iii.**

greg is glad he can do this in 30 seconds flat, because roman is shrieking like a child with 400% more obscenities. a few glances over have only shown pinpricks of blood, but roman’s not enjoying it and greg’s running out of disinfectant wipes.

“are- are you good, dude…?”

roman glares. “yeah, i’m fine- someone else usually does this, they’ve been getting fridays and saturdays mixed up too, and knew i was with you--”

“what kind do you take?”

roman’s head snaps up (he was glaring at his leg). this was not the plan. his court. his rules.

he’s never played this game.

“uh, cypionate. dosage is in the syringes already, though-”

“oh, easy!” greg perks up like when you mention pokemon, or smashburger. he scoots closer to roman, holds up his gloved hands.

“i’m not gonna touch you, because that isn’t sanitary, but do you mind if i guide you through it?”

greg has a gentleness roman’s never even heard in doctors. he knows this stuff, he talks to roman how the helpline did when he was bleeding on the floor of a hospital room. he talks to roman like people at bars, at group, in the ward did. he talks to roman like he sees the stress and frustration and fear and desire to be seen for what he is.

greg talks to roman like he’s allowed to be trans. roman nods. he doesn’t know why friendship makes him panic. he’ll work that out later.

“you got the spot right, in the butt, for a doctor, but you’re going to want to do it in the thigh- it’s easier to reach on your own. doctors don’t tell you that. now, tense your leg and feel for the middle third- it’ll have a specific muscle texture.”

roman feels it. he feels his body. he’s there. it’s there.

“now push in into the muscle- you’ll feel it. let go of your leg, pull back for blood, and if there’s nothing, push in, and then i can clean it for you, if that’s okay.”

roman doesn’t like to think about the needle, so as the liquid flows, he wonders why greg is so calm. he’s watching the liquid go in, nodding, lip bit, as if he’s a doctor. greg is never this calm. roman disposes of the needle, nods. greg is quick as a bolt about disinfecting and adding a super mario bandaid. 

they don’t speak until they’re high again.

**ii.**

choke, swallow, think, repeat. 

“how do you know all that?”

greg does the thing where he speaks smooth and calm. roman thought him being stoned would fix this. he doesn’t understand why this is so easy of a topic.

“i worked at clinics back home. i figured if i could use roy-adjacent money to help myself, i should put that to other people, right? ethics. i miss it. i’ll visit soon.”

oh yeah. some people are raised to be good people. 

roman goes quiet besides an ‘mm’ of understanding. he doesn’t get it. he doesn’t understand what it feels like to have any form of solidarity on the topic. maybe he’ll vacation with greg this summer. the thought is preposterous, some shit little home versus amsterdam or bali or paris or, fuck, anywhere! who would choose a loving mother over a red light district? why would you want groups of solidarity versus blowing money on wine? what dumbass would truly, honestly, take a week of feeling loved and seen and celebrated if there weren’t chances to break the law involved?

“sounds stupid.”

**i.**

greg smiles. he knows that voice. he’s spent so long mirroring roys, he knows when roman’s jealous. his brain can acknowledge the pity in finding joy in jealousy, but greg just found his first safe relative in new york city. he likes it because it feels like a sibling he never got. sure, you can dote on trans family, but roman is trans /and/ family. greg knows this subject, and he hasn’t been allowed to know it. greg found a moment of clarity in realizing that a few months of repression is different than a lifetime. 

he thinks roman deserves this.

“you should come along. even for a-uh, couple days, i think it’d be cool. you’d be cool to meet, for them.”

he’s unaware the anxiety of friendship brings roman comfort. greg only sees the microscopic twitch in roman’s ears as intrigue, as safety, as realizing greg doesn’t want to hurt him.

“thanks.”

and greg didn’t.

  
  



End file.
